Angels and Demons (17+)
1967 Black Chevy Impala Coming Through
We exchanged contact information (for the project, he said) and then we went our separate ways.
Dean did end up late to his Spanish class, but he convinced his teacher with his cheeky smile and the excuse of “I’m sorry, Sir. I am still new here. (Lo siento, Senor. Yo estoy nuevo aqui.)”
Later that night, I was doing my Pre-Calc homework when my phone vibrated.
“So I was late to class today.”
I smiled. I mean, I felt bad for making him late but still. He texted me first.
“Aw, I’m sorry. I did tell you to go to your class, didn’t I?”
“Hey, it was my duty to protect you from the idiots roaming the halls.”
My smile got even bigger. It was quite embarrassing actually.
“And I thank you for protecting me from those idiots and… well, maybe even the spirits ;)”
No response.
I went back to my homework, but I kept checking my phone every 5 minutes; hoping to see his name on my screen.
Did I do something wrong? Was it something I said?
For the rest of night, I was really anxious and afraid that my social disabilities were getting the best of me. I didn’t really say anything wrong… Did I?
The weekend was nothing special. I really just watched Sherlock the whole time, mostly because Benedict Cumberbatch’s eyes were one of the best things to look at in the entire universe.
I still hadn’t heard anything from Dean and at this point, I was solely convinced that he hated me. And to be honest, I was beginning to turn into one of those obsessive freaks who waited by the phone every second of every hour. So I decided not to text him and not to worry about it… Or at least make it seem like I wasn’t worried about it.
Monday came faster than I expected, and that meant seeing Dean. I was excited at first, but then I remembered that we weren’t talking, so my excitement quickly faded.
This always happens, I swear. I meet someone special and then poof. They run the other direction because I screw the whole thing up with the shit that comes out of my mouth. It really makes me hate myself sometimes.
Anyway, I sat down at my desk and I was probably always one of the first ones there. My headphones were in and I was blasting Nirvana’s “Come As You Are” when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up. It was Dean.
I took an ear phone out to hear him say, “You like Nirvana?”
“Yeah.” I replied bluntly.
“Let me see your phone.” He put out his hand and I just looked at him, “Well?”
Grudgingly, I gave it to him and he went to scroll through my artists. “Pink Floyd, nice. ACDC, I approve. Kansas.” He stopped, “Really? One Direction?”
“Hey, don’t judge. I don’t judge you for wearing brown boots with a black leather jacket.”
He pouted a little, “…What’s wrong with my boots?”
I ignored him and put my headphone back in my right ear. I was still a little pissed at him for thinking that everything was all fine and dandy.
He took it out.
“Is something wrong?”
“No.” I, again, bluntly responded. He then took a seat at the desk beside me.
“Yes, yes there is. You’re mad at me about something. Was it because I made fun of your music?”
“I told you, I’m not mad.”
He scoffed, “Yeah right. I know this trick. Remember when we learned about Freud’s different elements of emotions? You’re using reaction formation. The one where you say the opposite of what you’re feeling.”
Damn, he’s good.
I didn’t say a word.
“Nailed it? Ooo. I didn’t think I would get it so fast,” his joking manner vanished, “Come on, just tell me what’s on your mind.”
I sighed, “It doesn’t matter.”
“What are you talking about? Of course it does, that’s why I’m asking.” he studied my face, “Was it because I didn’t text you back?”
Again, I didn’t say anything.
“Damn, right on the nose again. Ya know, I usually enjoy being right, but right now I’m not.” He paused, “Hey, look at me,” he turned my face and gave me a cheeky smile. I still didn’t show any emotion, “Look, I was working all weekend and got called in suddenly. I’m sorry I didn’t text you back.”
I still wasn’t convinced, “Really? Don’t jobs usually let you have breaks? You could’ve said something to me then. Like, ‘Oh, I’m working. Sorry if I don’t keep in touch’.”
“Not for this job.” He replied as the bell rang and he returned back to his seat.
Where does he work? At a prison or something...?
Class begun shortly afterwards and this was the day that we picked our rats.
“Okay, class. Get with your partners and collaborate on what kind of rat you want, the gender, and the name. Remember, all names need to be chosen by the end of class.”
Dean and I sat in the back and pushed our desks together.
“What kind of rat should we get?” he asked.
“Well, I kind of want a black dumbo rat, what about you?”
“I want a black one too. They look pretty bad ass.”
I laughed, “Okay. Gender?”
“She did mention the girls were kind of mean right? Like they bite more often? I think we should get a boy.”
I agreed with him on that. Even though all girls would think that I would’ve wanted a girl. Because… Well, when it comes to choosing animals or pets, I feel like girls lean more towards girls and boys lean more towards boys. Only makes sense right? So, it kind of becomes this “battle of the sexes” type thing to see which one is superior.
But to be honest, I didn’t want t a girl rat. They were mean and not as loveable as the boys, and not to mention they hated following directions. It kind of sounds familiar…
I checked the boxes “black dumbo” and “male” on the slip of paper she gave to us. “So, what should we name him?”
Dean put his fingers to his lips and contemplated for a moment. Then, a light bulb turned on in his head, “How about Stormageddon?”
I shook my head, “No, that won’t fit on his name tag.” I thought for a second, “Hey, do you watch superhero movies like Iron Man, Batman, Thor…?”
“In fact, I do. Why? What was your idea?”
“Well, I’ve always wanted to name a pet Loki. Ya know, after Thor’s evil step brother?”
He took my suggestion into consideration, then began to nod, “Yeah. I like that.” He painted the name in the air like it belonged on a marquee, “Loki, the baddest, maddest rat of them all.”
I giggled, “He’s gonna be a real bad ass.”
“You bet he will.”
We gave our slip to Mrs. Vida, got Loki, and decided that I was going to take him home that night.
I was doing my Chemistry homework while monitoring Loki’s actions when I got a text.
“Hey, how’s Loki?” he asked.
I typed, “He’s doing well. Kinda stressed, but that’s to be expected.”
“Yeah,” he responded. Then another text came through, “So I was wondering; what are you doing tonight?”
My eyes grew wide. Does he want to hang out with me or…? KEEP. CALM.
I replied, “Nothing much, just finishing up some Chem homework. Why do you ask?”
“Great. Where do you live?”
“You still didn’t answer the original question. I would like to know where you are taking me before I get kidnapped.”
“You’ll see ;)”
He was so sneaky and mysterious. Like how the hell does no one in his family get annoyed by his enigmatic ways?
He pulled up into my driveway and I told my mom I was going out.
“Be safe!” She replied, even though she probably didn’t care.
He drove a 1967 Black Chevy Impala and it was in better shape than I would have expected from any 18 year old who had a car that was almost 50 years old. Because, let’s face it, my car was a piece of shit.
“Nice ride.” I complimented while pointing to the Impala.
“Thanks, my dad gave it to me.” Giving me a crooked smile, he said, “So, my lady, should we go for a ride?”
And with that, Dean Styles and I rode down Maple Drive as the leaves from the fall season flew up and around the base of his tires.
Dean did end up late to his Spanish class, but he convinced his teacher with his cheeky smile and the excuse of “I’m sorry, Sir. I am still new here. (Lo siento, Senor. Yo estoy nuevo aqui.)”
Later that night, I was doing my Pre-Calc homework when my phone vibrated.
“So I was late to class today.”
I smiled. I mean, I felt bad for making him late but still. He texted me first.
“Aw, I’m sorry. I did tell you to go to your class, didn’t I?”
“Hey, it was my duty to protect you from the idiots roaming the halls.”
My smile got even bigger. It was quite embarrassing actually.
“And I thank you for protecting me from those idiots and… well, maybe even the spirits ;)”
No response.
I went back to my homework, but I kept checking my phone every 5 minutes; hoping to see his name on my screen.
Did I do something wrong? Was it something I said?
For the rest of night, I was really anxious and afraid that my social disabilities were getting the best of me. I didn’t really say anything wrong… Did I?
The weekend was nothing special. I really just watched Sherlock the whole time, mostly because Benedict Cumberbatch’s eyes were one of the best things to look at in the entire universe.
I still hadn’t heard anything from Dean and at this point, I was solely convinced that he hated me. And to be honest, I was beginning to turn into one of those obsessive freaks who waited by the phone every second of every hour. So I decided not to text him and not to worry about it… Or at least make it seem like I wasn’t worried about it.
Monday came faster than I expected, and that meant seeing Dean. I was excited at first, but then I remembered that we weren’t talking, so my excitement quickly faded.
This always happens, I swear. I meet someone special and then poof. They run the other direction because I screw the whole thing up with the shit that comes out of my mouth. It really makes me hate myself sometimes.
Anyway, I sat down at my desk and I was probably always one of the first ones there. My headphones were in and I was blasting Nirvana’s “Come As You Are” when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up. It was Dean.
I took an ear phone out to hear him say, “You like Nirvana?”
“Yeah.” I replied bluntly.
“Let me see your phone.” He put out his hand and I just looked at him, “Well?”
Grudgingly, I gave it to him and he went to scroll through my artists. “Pink Floyd, nice. ACDC, I approve. Kansas.” He stopped, “Really? One Direction?”
“Hey, don’t judge. I don’t judge you for wearing brown boots with a black leather jacket.”
He pouted a little, “…What’s wrong with my boots?”
I ignored him and put my headphone back in my right ear. I was still a little pissed at him for thinking that everything was all fine and dandy.
He took it out.
“Is something wrong?”
“No.” I, again, bluntly responded. He then took a seat at the desk beside me.
“Yes, yes there is. You’re mad at me about something. Was it because I made fun of your music?”
“I told you, I’m not mad.”
He scoffed, “Yeah right. I know this trick. Remember when we learned about Freud’s different elements of emotions? You’re using reaction formation. The one where you say the opposite of what you’re feeling.”
Damn, he’s good.
I didn’t say a word.
“Nailed it? Ooo. I didn’t think I would get it so fast,” his joking manner vanished, “Come on, just tell me what’s on your mind.”
I sighed, “It doesn’t matter.”
“What are you talking about? Of course it does, that’s why I’m asking.” he studied my face, “Was it because I didn’t text you back?”
Again, I didn’t say anything.
“Damn, right on the nose again. Ya know, I usually enjoy being right, but right now I’m not.” He paused, “Hey, look at me,” he turned my face and gave me a cheeky smile. I still didn’t show any emotion, “Look, I was working all weekend and got called in suddenly. I’m sorry I didn’t text you back.”
I still wasn’t convinced, “Really? Don’t jobs usually let you have breaks? You could’ve said something to me then. Like, ‘Oh, I’m working. Sorry if I don’t keep in touch’.”
“Not for this job.” He replied as the bell rang and he returned back to his seat.
Where does he work? At a prison or something...?
Class begun shortly afterwards and this was the day that we picked our rats.
“Okay, class. Get with your partners and collaborate on what kind of rat you want, the gender, and the name. Remember, all names need to be chosen by the end of class.”
Dean and I sat in the back and pushed our desks together.
“What kind of rat should we get?” he asked.
“Well, I kind of want a black dumbo rat, what about you?”
“I want a black one too. They look pretty bad ass.”
I laughed, “Okay. Gender?”
“She did mention the girls were kind of mean right? Like they bite more often? I think we should get a boy.”
I agreed with him on that. Even though all girls would think that I would’ve wanted a girl. Because… Well, when it comes to choosing animals or pets, I feel like girls lean more towards girls and boys lean more towards boys. Only makes sense right? So, it kind of becomes this “battle of the sexes” type thing to see which one is superior.
But to be honest, I didn’t want t a girl rat. They were mean and not as loveable as the boys, and not to mention they hated following directions. It kind of sounds familiar…
I checked the boxes “black dumbo” and “male” on the slip of paper she gave to us. “So, what should we name him?”
Dean put his fingers to his lips and contemplated for a moment. Then, a light bulb turned on in his head, “How about Stormageddon?”
I shook my head, “No, that won’t fit on his name tag.” I thought for a second, “Hey, do you watch superhero movies like Iron Man, Batman, Thor…?”
“In fact, I do. Why? What was your idea?”
“Well, I’ve always wanted to name a pet Loki. Ya know, after Thor’s evil step brother?”
He took my suggestion into consideration, then began to nod, “Yeah. I like that.” He painted the name in the air like it belonged on a marquee, “Loki, the baddest, maddest rat of them all.”
I giggled, “He’s gonna be a real bad ass.”
“You bet he will.”
We gave our slip to Mrs. Vida, got Loki, and decided that I was going to take him home that night.
I was doing my Chemistry homework while monitoring Loki’s actions when I got a text.
“Hey, how’s Loki?” he asked.
I typed, “He’s doing well. Kinda stressed, but that’s to be expected.”
“Yeah,” he responded. Then another text came through, “So I was wondering; what are you doing tonight?”
My eyes grew wide. Does he want to hang out with me or…? KEEP. CALM.
I replied, “Nothing much, just finishing up some Chem homework. Why do you ask?”
“Great. Where do you live?”
“You still didn’t answer the original question. I would like to know where you are taking me before I get kidnapped.”
“You’ll see ;)”
He was so sneaky and mysterious. Like how the hell does no one in his family get annoyed by his enigmatic ways?
He pulled up into my driveway and I told my mom I was going out.
“Be safe!” She replied, even though she probably didn’t care.
He drove a 1967 Black Chevy Impala and it was in better shape than I would have expected from any 18 year old who had a car that was almost 50 years old. Because, let’s face it, my car was a piece of shit.
“Nice ride.” I complimented while pointing to the Impala.
“Thanks, my dad gave it to me.” Giving me a crooked smile, he said, “So, my lady, should we go for a ride?”
And with that, Dean Styles and I rode down Maple Drive as the leaves from the fall season flew up and around the base of his tires.
Notes
Hey guys :D I hope you like it :3 I love writing this story! It's so great.Anyway, if you have any suggestions on what should happen next, I would love some :D
BUT FOR NOW
RATE, COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE :DD
Love you most,
-Kayla-
omg I LOVE IT!!!
4/18/15